


Yellow Brick Road

by jane_x80



Series: Yellow Brick Road [1]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, M/M, Music, Tony Leaves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-26 15:42:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7580077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jane_x80/pseuds/jane_x80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gibbs goes alone to meet a confidential informant at a bar and stumbles upon an unexpected performance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThePeachyMonkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePeachyMonkey/gifts).



> This is for thepeachymonkey who also writes DiNozzo/Gibbs stories. Happy birthday! I hope you have an awesome day! Maybe with donuts or sausages? :D
> 
> The prompt: Gibbs hears Tony playing the piano in a public venue. With smut, of course. ;)
> 
> I had originally intended for this to be a PWP but when I started writing the story, it took a life of its own. Even though it is thepeachymonkey's birthday today, hopefully she won't mind if the story continues to be posted in the next few days. ;)
> 
> The story takes place spring-ish of S13. There is mention of stuff that happened in s13 Stop The Bleeding, s13 Personal Day up to s13 Reasonable Doubts.

Gibbs quietly walked into the bar, slipping a folded twenty dollar bill to the doorman for his cover charge, and slowly meandering towards the bar. He was meeting one of his long-time confidential informants here. The informant had information on the arms dealing case that the MCRT was working on. He kept his eyes open, looking out for threats as he slowly made his way to the bar. He was fifteen minutes early for the meet, but he liked to be early to scope out the venue.

He’d never been to this bar before. It was off the beaten path. On the darkened stage, a spotlight shone on the grand piano, and it suddenly filtered into Gibbs’ alert brain that the performer was actually really good. The performer started a new song, the opening measures soft and haunting, and the audience roared in appreciation, obviously recognizing the song.

He ordered a beer, and while he waited for it, he looked at the stage, glimpsing only bits of the piano player’s body from where he stood. The unseen piano player began singing. His voice was mellow and smooth, a tenor that made him think of hot, melted chocolate. The song was _Goodbye Yellow Brick Road_ , but he sang it in a way that Gibbs had never heard the song performed before. The man singing had taken this song and made it his own, making it the most haunting and sad song Gibbs had ever heard. Whoever he was, this man was leaving whoever he was with and wherever it was he was going, it was going to hurt him deeply to leave.

He began belting the words in the middle of the song, and Gibbs tried to angle his head to get a view of the man’s face. His face was blocked by the open piano lid from where Gibbs was, at the corner of the bar. It nagged at him – he felt like he knew the voice but he didn’t know who he knew who could sing like this.

_Maybe you'll get a replacement_  
_There's plenty like me to be found_  
_Mongrels who ain't got a penny_  
_Sniffing for tidbits like you on the ground_

For some reason the way he sang about a replacement made Gibbs’ heart fall. Finally, the song died down to the opening, quietly-repeated melancholy chords, and the singer crooned the last lines, giving it a sad, bluesy twist.

_So goodbye yellow brick road_  
_Where the dogs of society howl_  
_You can't plant me in your penthouse_  
_I'm going back to my plough_

_Back to the howling old owl in the woods_  
_Hunting the horny back toad_  
_Oh I've finally decided my future lies_  
_I've finally decided my future lies_  
_Oh I've finally decided my future lies_  
_Beyond the yellow brick road_

Gibbs sighed, as applause drowned out the final chords. He knew he was right. The singer was making changes in his life, and it sounded like he was ripping his own heart out to do it.

“He’s good, right?” the bartender’s voice made Gibbs jump.

He looked at the man, raising a brow inquiringly.

“First time hearing T play, right?” the young man said, nodding knowingly.

“Sad song,” Gibbs said.

He nodded, humming his agreement. “T only started playing that song the last couple of weeks. But it’s become a huge hit.”

“He a regular?”

“Shows up from time to time,” the bartender says as he deftly mixed drinks. “At least as long as I’ve been here. So maybe the last four or five years? No regular days though, before you ask. Guy shows up whenever and nobody here would dream of turning him away if he wants to sing.”

“I can see why,” Gibbs said appreciatively.

The man had slipped away backstage without Gibbs spotting him, and he craned his neck trying to see if he could find the man.

The young bartender laughed. “He has that effect on people,” he inclined his head around the bar and Gibbs saw that men and women alike were looking for him. “T practically never goes home with anyone though. He comes, he plays, and he lets a few people buy him drinks before he leaves. The whole time I’ve been here, I’ve seen him go home with maybe one guy.”

Gibbs made the appropriate noises, letting the chatty bartender tell him more about the man, while keeping his eyes open for his contact. He saw the man come in and gesture toward a dark booth in the back. He nodded slightly.

Turning back to the bartender, he ordered two more beers, slid money over, but before he took his drinks, he asked one final question.

“Is it T’s last set?”

The young man shrugged. “He’ll play another set tonight. But you know, I think he did tell the owner earlier today he was probably leaving town in a month or two.”

Gibbs nodded. He was right. T had sung that last song wholeheartedly. The man was definitely leaving. He grabbed the bottles and headed to the booth, thinking it was a shame that he’d only found this bar now, when T was leaving town. Although with his work schedule, the chances of him coming to the bar at a time that coincided with another of T’s rare performances were slim. But it saddened him anyway. Whoever T was, he sounded as if he’d been unhappy for a long time and finally doing something drastic to fix it.

He slid into the booth across from the unassuming man, a marine who worked in a supply depot, handing him one of the beers. They sat, drinking quietly, before the man surreptitiously slipped a folded piece of paper to him and nodded at him.

“Thanks for the drink,” he said, as he started to slide out of the booth.

Gibbs nodded, glancing quickly at the paper. “Thanks,” he said gruffly.

“Try not to call me again, huh?” And with that, the man disappeared, leaving Gibbs alone in the darkened booth. He sat, nursing his beer, wondering if he should stay for T’s next set. The somewhat familiar voice was still nagging at him. He couldn’t think of anyone that he knew who could sing that well or play the piano, or be so sad about his life that he was leaving it. And if he was honest with himself, the voice had ignited something inside him, a fire that refused to be dampened.

Whoever T was, Gibbs needed to know who he was. He needed to hear him sing some more.

When the server came around, he ordered a bourbon and sat back. He relaxed as he waited for the next set, his mind switching around from the case, the new clue, and T, the unhappy piano player. Not long after, the spotlight came back on. A figure was already sitting at the piano.

Gibbs put his glass down as he stared at the man, heart pounding in his chest. Short brown hair artfully mussed, the man smiled shyly at the applause he received. Gibbs knew that smile. It was the one that the man only gave when he was genuinely flattered, and unable to mask it, his green eyes averted almost coyly. He’d been graced with it a few times during their long years of working together. But now, he couldn’t even remember the last time Tony DiNozzo had given him that smile. He’d only been the recipient of Tony’s huge megawatt smile (one that still made him go weak in the knees, despite being exposed to it all these years), but he knew that that was the smile Tony gave everyone and not the one he gave to those he allowed in, through his barriers, masks, and defenses.

When did Tony stop letting Gibbs in, close to the real him? he wondered. And why hadn’t he noticed it? When had he become so used to letting Tony hide from him that he didn’t even notice that Tony hadn’t been letting him in again? The man had stopped coming round his house, sitting in his basement, drinking and talking. He hadn’t invited himself over for cowboy steaks for months, not since Gibbs had returned from being shot by The Calling. Not since Gibbs had smacked him down right in the bullpen for doing his job. Tony had gone on his mission, hunting and killing Daniel Budd, ensuring that The Calling would no longer pose a threat to anyone.

And what had Gibbs done? Thank the man? Make him a steak dinner? No. He had cut him down in public, something his second of so many years had not even remotely deserved. And while T sang and played a rowdy rendition of _Bennie and the Jets_ , encouraging the audience to sing with him, all Gibbs could see was Tony’s face, shocked and confused at Gibbs’ cutting look, a reaction to his question: “Do we need to talk?”

Gibbs realized why it was that he didn’t recognize Tony’s voice when he sang. It really didn’t sound like him. The man hid so many things from the world, including this amazing voice of his. He took a few requests, singing and playing a large variety of music from mo-town to blues to country to rock to pop. He moved back and forth through the decades, playing and singing effortlessly.

Finally he announced that he was playing his last two songs for the night. Gibbs sat through a heartbreaking version of the Beatles’ _Let It Be_ , before he launched into the song that had caught Gibbs’ ear. This time Gibbs listened to every nuance in his voice and watched his body language and facial expressions, trying to gauge if his first impression of the man singing the song that night had been right.

Tony’s voice broke a little when he sang the line about plenty of his replacements to be found, and then Gibbs knew for certain. Tony was leaving him. After all these years, he had finally managed to chase away his loyal Saint Bernard. By the end of the song, when Tony crooned about finally deciding that his future lay beyond the yellow brick road, and the audience went wild, Gibbs watched as Tony sat quietly at the piano, his expression one of sheer desolation, that it literally hurt him to see it.

Finally Tony stood, smiling his trademark megawatt smile, and Gibbs didn’t even need to look around the room to see that everyone was smiling back and hoping to be noticed, but he could see, even from this far away, the sadness in Tony’s eyes. The man slipped backstage quietly again, and Gibbs watched as people put money into the tip jar at the bar. He put money on his table and went out to the parking lot, scanning it and finding Tony’s rental car parked not far from the rear entrance, right under a bright light. No dark parking spots for him. Despite his track record, Gibbs knew that Tony was cautious and aware of his surroundings.

He stood, looking at the car, trying to decide if he should wait for Tony and let him know he’d seen him perform, or go home and watch Tony’s behavior for the next week and confront him about the possibility of him leaving after that. It occurred to him that Tony was still driving a rental car despite the fact that he had lost his last car a while ago. Another sign that Tony was gearing up to leave again. Tony loved cars, had always taken pride in owning a classic car, but yet he was still driving a rental. He stood in a shadowed corner of the parking lot, still waffling about what to do when the decision was taken away from him.

He watched as Tony walked out of the rear exit, but he wasn’t alone. Gibbs slipped further into the dark shadows. A handsome man, maybe five or ten years older than Tony accompanied him, arm around his waist. He had short hair, more salt than pepper, high cheekbones, square jaw, arresting blue eyes, and was snappily dressed, but Gibbs could see that the man had a military bearing. Former Army, he thought. And the arm that was conspicuously around Tony’s waist. Not in a platonic way. It was how someone held on to someone they were sexually interested in.

Suddenly it came back to Gibbs what the bartender had said about T – that he had maybe gone home with one guy in all the years he’d been there. A guy. Not a woman. A man.

Tony went home with men.

His Tony went home with men.

 _His_ Tony went home with _other_ men?

Was Tony going to go home with this man? Gibbs wondered, suddenly overcome by jealousy. And why didn’t Gibbs even get an inkling that Tony would be remotely interested in men? And if so, why hadn’t Tony the Sex Machine made a play for _him_? In all these years they’d been working together, Tony had always been pushing the envelope and Gibbs could think of numerous times when he’d thought Tony was actually flirting with him. But Tony flirted with everyone. So he’d never really taken the man seriously. Besides, Tony had never shown any real interest in men. His reputation was as a ladies’ man.

He glared balefully at the scene unfolding in front of him. The man with his arm around Tony pulled him close and Gibbs found himself unable to look away as he pressed his lips to Tony’s, and the younger man positively _melted_ into the kiss. The other man’s hands were everywhere – in Tony’s honey-brown hair, around his neck, around his back, on his ass, pulling Tony even closer, grinding himself against him. And Gibbs found himself breathing hard, fighting the urge to stride over there and tear them apart.

A small part of his brain noticed that even though Tony was fully kissing the man back, he kept his arms still, around his waist, not groping him or running his hands over the other man. After what seemed like hours, Tony pulled away, putting his forehead gently on the other man’s, eyes closed. A few breaths later, Tony extracted himself from the man’s arms, smiling sadly at him.

Even from that distance, Gibbs could clearly read his body language, the regret in his eyes, and his lips, clearly saying “Goodbye.”

The other man, clearly asking for another chance. Asking for more. Asking for it to not be the end. And Tony shaking his head, obviously the one doing the dumping.

Gibbs watched the sadness and regret in Tony’s eyes as he kept shaking his head. No. And Gibbs found himself wondering – how long had Tony been with this man? It didn’t look like a one night stand. He’d seen Tony send off one night stands before, and while the man was never cruel and the ones he’d seen him with had been women, but there was a specific body language involved, even with the clingiest people. People you just met didn’t have this layer of complexity and familiarity with him. This man had been a long term boyfriend. Now jilted, obviously.

And Gibbs watched them from the shadows. Tony was calm, solemn and tender in his goodbyes, getting into his car and driving away without glancing back. The other man leaning against a car, deflating, shoulders hunched, hands over his face. Not long after, he pulled himself together and walked to a car, getting in and starting the car. Even the engine turning over sounded dejected. He sat in the car for a long moment, his expression one of such pain that Gibbs had to turn away. Whoever this man was, he’d loved Tony. Loved him perhaps even as much as Gibbs loved Tony.

And Gibbs pushed that thought away, the way he always had, for all these years, repeating to himself all the excuses he’d kept telling himself. Tony wasn’t available. Tony wasn’t his. There was Rule 12. Tony wasn’t interested in men. Tony didn’t do long term relationships. Tony was in love with Ziva.

These were all of the reasons that Gibbs had told himself over the years for not ever expressing his feelings for Tony.

Now he didn’t know if any of them were valid. Tony _was_ interested in men – look at the poor guy he just broke up with. Tony did do long term relationships – what he’d witnessed wasn’t a casual break up. That meant that Tony was available. And maybe, just maybe, Tony wasn’t in love with Ziva. Maybe Rule 12 was his own stupidity and cowardice. Maybe he had wasted all these years secretly pining over the most beautiful man in the world for no reason?

And now Tony was leaving.

Gibbs stood in the dark for a long time, trying to internalize and process what he’d just witnessed. Finally he got in his car and drove home, his mind full of Tony DiNozzo.

For the next week, Gibbs surreptitiously watched Tony at work. In the bullpen. In Abby’s lab. In the elevator. At crime scenes. He paid attention to the banter between Tony, McGee and Bishop. He stood at the picture window by the bullpen after dismissing the team, watching Tony get in his car and drive away, all the while the haunting chords of the song Tony’d played repeating softly in the back of his mind.

Gibbs realized that Tony seemed to never go out with either of his teammates after work anymore. Not that McGee tended to go out after work much these days, he mostly went home to eat and hang out with Delilah. But even when McGee, Abby and Bishop went out together, it seemed like Tony would beg off. A date, or some such excuse.

Gibbs tried not to think about the fact that Tony had, in fact, been going off to be with his special someone after work. Army guy, with the salt and pepper hair, blue eyes and the high cheekbones. But since they had broken up, why was Tony still not going out with his team?

Because he was leaving, the thought came to Gibbs, despite every effort that he made not to think of it.

Tony had finally had enough. Tony who had always had his six, through thick or thin, who’d taken every punishment he’d doled out and only ever repaid him by working even harder to get his approval, even staying after the deplorable way he’d treated the man upon his return from Mexico, and a thousand other examples of his tenacity in the face of Gibbs’ multifarious bastardism, this Tony was withdrawing from his life and readying himself to finally move on.

Tony DiNozzo who’d worked his way through three different police departments in six years but had, for some unfathomable reason, stayed with him at NCIS for fifteen years was leaving.

Gibbs stood at the window, long after Tony’s car disappeared from view, wondering how he would go on without Tony on his six. Without Tony’s face smiling at him across the bullpen. Without those humor-filled green eyes brightening up his day.

And worse of all, when Gibbs tried to sleep, he was haunted by the memory of the desolation in those green eyes at the end of his last song that night at the bar. Something had caused that look in his eye, and Gibbs’ infamous gut told him that it wasn’t the man Tony had broken up with. The other man might have loved Tony, but Tony didn’t love him back in that way. And that look in his eye, his voice breaking as he sang _Goodbye Yellow Brick Road_ , repeatedly declaring that he’d finally decided that his future lay beyond it, that look crept into his dreams and made him awaken in a cold sweat every night.

Gibbs’ gut told him that he’d done this. That it was his own fault that Tony was looking to move on. Despite telling himself that he didn’t understand why the man had stayed and endured him for fifteen years and now finally decided he’d had enough, he knew. He knew that he had finally pushed Tony away so hard that he’d broken him.

He noticed more and more that Tony’s smiles rarely reached his eyes. Tony clammed up as soon as he saw him – and not in the way that he used to, playfully arching an eyebrow, or his eyes twinkling merrily as he took a headslap or verbal reprimand. He silenced himself, his eyes dull and his usually larger than life personality unnaturally muted. He’d stopped flirting at everything with legs, only pulling out the charm when they needed information out of a recalcitrant witness. He no longer talked about the movies he’d watched, the dates he’d gone on, and had even muted his usually downplayed brilliance as an investigator. He’d somehow ended up a duller, grayer version of himself ever since Gibbs had returned to work.

So yes. Gibbs knew that it was his fault that Tony DiNozzo was no longer behaving like the real Tony DiNozzo. He knew that he was the reason that Tony’s eyes were so sad. They’d had a long and successful work partnership, and they’d even become friends along the way, despite Gibbs’ efforts to keep everyone out of his personal life. But now that he’d started thinking about it, he hadn’t treated his friend like one in a long time.

And this wasn’t even the first time he’s pushed Tony’s friendship away. Gibbs went through these cycles where he just pushed everyone away. But this time, as he thought about it, he hadn’t pushed everyone away. He and Ducky still enjoyed a close friendship, and Fornell and he had never had such closeness. He’d even connected with new people – Cyril Taft, for instance. But somehow, he’d pushed Tony away. And hard.

In the past, Tony had always refused to give up and always come around trying to wheedle his way back into Gibbs’ life. But not this time. This time Tony had decided that it wasn’t worth it anymore. That sticking around only brought him pain and that he would be better off leaving.

It was all Gibbs’ fault.

And it was up to him to fix it, before he lost something so precious to him that he didn’t even have a name for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title comes from Elton John's song _Goodbye Yellow Brick Road_ , which was the inspiration for the story. However, in this chapter, Tony sang the song the way Sara Bareilles did [in this live performance](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ozd2ja7mAgM) (click on the link to listen). Thanks to CantDanceLovesToRead for introducing me to Sara Bareilles. :)


	2. Chapter 2

After another week of watching the light in Tony’s eyes grow dimmer, Gibbs decided that he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to act.

They had just closed a difficult case. Tony had worked harder than anyone else, breaking the case wide open with his usual quiet brilliance. They’d caught the murderer and finished up the paperwork. The case was solved. Tony managed to dodge out of a celebratory dinner, deflecting when Abby tried to pressure him into going out with the team.

Gibbs stood at the window, looking down into the parking lot, and watched as Tony slipped quietly away while his teammates continued their argument about where to go for dinner. Gibbs had declined, as was his usual habit, but instead of going home and burying himself in his basement, he went and got takeout from an Italian restaurant that he knew Tony loved, also picking up red wine and beer. He drove to Tony’s apartment building and sat for a long while in his car, just looking at the building.

This wasn’t going to be an easy conversation. Getting meaningful conversation out of Tony in general was difficult. Tony was all smoke and mirrors, king of talking a lot without saying anything at all. Gibbs would have to plow through his defenses in order to learn what the problem was.

He found himself standing in front of Tony’s front door, take out and booze precariously balanced in his arms. He sucked in a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

He saw a shadow in front of the peephole. Tony was careful about opening his door. He heard the deadbolts turning and the door opened. Tony stood in the doorway looking concerned.

“Gibbs? We catch a case?” he asked, pulling his phone out and checking it for missed calls, ready to call McGee and Bishop. “No one called me.”

“Nope. No case.”

Tony’s expression turned from concern to confusion. “Is there a problem? What’s going on?”

“Can I come in?” Gibbs asked, holding up his offerings. “I brought dinner.”

Immediately, Tony looked suspicious, which twisted the knife in Gibbs’ gut. “Why’d you bring me dinner?” he asked cautiously.

“You haven’t come round the basement in a while,” Gibbs shrugged. “Thought maybe I should come to you.”

Tony gave him a disbelieving look, but his good manners prevailed and he opened the door wider and invited Gibbs in. The older man walked in, looking around Tony’s immaculate apartment, searching for signs that Tony was moving. Tony shut, locked, and deadbolted the door behind him.

A box lay open in front of Tony’s entertainment system, half filled with DVDs. His shelves looked a little bare. Other things had been packed away, he thought.

“What’s going on?” he jerked his chin at the half packed box.

Tony shrugged noncommittally. “Just making room,” he muttered. “You’re always saying I have too many movies.”

“So you’re packing them away?”

Refusing to meet his eyes, Tony took the six pack and bottle of wine away from Gibbs and walked into the kitchen. “Just some spring cleaning,” he said, his tone carefully casual.

“You eaten?” Gibbs asked, changing the subject, following behind him and putting the bag of food on the gleaming granite island.

Tony looked surprised and shook his head. Gibbs could see that he was still unsure of what to think of Gibbs’ presence at his apartment. With good reason. In all the years that they’ve been working together, Gibbs had only ever come to his place if he begged and pleaded. After Gibbs helped him move in all those many years ago, he rarely ever came over, and never without serious begging on Tony’s part. He might have occasionally come to check on him when Tony was injured, but he had never just turned up out of the blue bearing alcohol and food. That was more Tony’s modus operandi, when showing up at Gibbs’ house unannounced.

“I went to La Tavola,” Gibbs said. “You like that place.”

Tony’s green eyes narrowed and he leaned against his kitchen counter, arms wrapped around himself. “What’s going on, Gibbs?” he asked straight out, unable to hold the question back. “You never come over unannounced. You never bring me food. Or drinks.” Tony raked his sharp eyes over Gibbs, noting the uncertainty in his blue eyes and the weariness in his body language. “You’re not sick or something are you? Taft said you were OK. Was he lying? Are you sick but you just didn’t want anyone to know?”

“I’m not sick,” Gibbs cut him off before he could go into a full-blown tirade.

Tony stared at him, scrutinizing him before frowning. “Then what? What’s going on? What’s all this?” he jerked his chin at the bag of food. “You haven’t said a word to me for damn near a year, and now this? Are you sure you’re not sick?”

“I’m not sick, DiNozzo,” Gibbs said impatiently. “I-I just needed to talk to you.”

Tony didn’t miss the slight hesitation in Gibbs’ last sentence. “What about?” he asked curiously.

“Can we eat first?”

“Are you trying to butter me up?” Tony tried for insolence but his smile was all wrong, making Gibbs’ gut twist in knots.

Gibbs sighed, running his hand through his hair in an uncharacteristic show of emotion. This wasn’t going the way he’d planned. Finally he raised his intense blue eyes to the younger man’s face. He took a deep breath.

“I know,” he finally said.

“Know what?” Tony looked confused.

“I know you’re gearing to leave.”

Surprise flashed through Tony’s face for a microsecond before he clamped down on his emotions, his expression blank, erasing any trace of emotion from before. Gibbs was forcibly reminded of one of the reasons he’d hired Tony all those years ago. He was quick on his feet, and one of the best undercover operatives he’d ever worked with.

“That so?” he said, one eyebrow arched, looking curious.

Gibbs nodded.

“Why would you think that?”

Gibbs knew that tone of voice. Tony was interrogating him. And he was falling for it, compelled to answer truthfully. “I heard you sing,” he admitted, “at that piano bar on K Street.”

To Tony’s credit, he only paled slightly, but showed no other emotion. “Sing?” he asked. If Gibbs hadn’t seen him with his own eyes, he would have believed that Tony had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.

“ _Goodbye Yellow Brick Road_?” Gibbs said. “You can lie about it, but I saw you and I heard what you sang. And you’re packing your apartment. That isn’t spring cleaning,” Gibbs inclined his head towards the living room. “You’re gearing up to leave.”

“It’s just a song,” Tony shrugged.

Gibbs glared at him. “Don’t treat me like I’m stupid, DiNozzo.”

Tony blew out a quiet breath. “Even if it were true, why should you care?” he asked quietly.

“Why would you say that? We’ve been partners for a decade and a half! Why wouldn’t I care?” Gibbs suddenly exploded, slamming a palm down on Tony’s granite-topped island.

Tony shrugged again. “Hasn’t felt like a partnership in a while,” he finally said.

“DiNozzo…”

“We’ve been together long enough for me to know you, Gibbs,” Tony interrupted him. “You were done with me when I came back from Hong Kong. I’m done prolonging the pain.” Tony smiled, a small sad smile.

The same fucking smile he’d given Army guy, Gibbs thought angrily. Tony was breaking up with him, too.

“No,” he growled. “We’re done when I say we’re done.”

“You _did_ say you were done with me,” Tony said softly. “Just not in so many words. The only reason you’re mad is that I’m doing something about it this time. I’m doing what you want. Instead of begging you to take me back like I always do. I can’t do that anymore.” He averted his face, and Gibbs saw a sheen of tears in those beautiful green eyes of his.

“No, Tony.”

The younger man shook his head sadly. “I’m done, Gibbs. I’m tired. All I ever wanted was to be your partner. And after all these years, I’m still begging for scraps from your table. So now I’m done. I finally realized that I have pride, too.”

“Anthony…”

Tony shrugged. “Vance offered me a promotion. Assistant Director for Europe.”

“Europe?” Gibbs gasped.

“I’d be based out of Rota. Where Jenny offered me Team Lead all those years ago,” Tony smiled, another small, bittersweet smile. “Usually AD for Europe is based in Marseilles, but we all know I’m banned from that city,” he grinned infectiously, making Gibbs’ lips quirk up a little, remembering the Admiral’s Daughter and Tony’s adventures in babysitting.

“When were you going to tell me?”

Tony sighed again. “Haven’t exactly told Vance yes yet,” he said quietly. “Figured I’d tell everyone after.”

“So why are you packing up your apartment now?”

Tony grinned mischievously. “FBI offered me a job. Assistant Director.”

“Here?”

“If I want it. They kind of left it open ended.”

“Why would they leave it open ended?”

“They know I have ties to DC. So it’s kind of cool, they’ll accommodate me here, or Chicago, or New York, or San Francisco, they said. And I’d get to choose my team if I go over to the dark side.” He shrugged, making a face.

Gibbs stared at him in silence. Whatever happened, Tony was determined to leave. His beautiful Tony was really leaving him. He wouldn’t see those vibrant green eyes across the bullpen, and hear Tony’s witty bon mots. Because he had finally driven him away.

“It’ll be OK, Gibbs,” Tony continued, his tone soothing. “McGee has really turned into a great agent. I’m confident he’ll watch your six. He was great as my Senior Field Agent when you were on medical last summer. And Bishop’s doing great too. If you want, I’ll help pick out a good probie to round out your team. You won’t even miss me.”

Another long moment of silence as Gibbs stared at Tony in shock. All he could think of were the lines in that infernal song “ _Maybe you'll get a replacement / There's plenty like me to be found_.” But it was wrong. The song was dead wrong. There was only one Tony DiNozzo, and no replacement would ever stand up to the original.

“Besides,” Tony’s quiet voice continued, “you’ve always hated my yabba yabba. The bullpen’ll be exactly what you like. Quiet and efficient.”

“No!” Gibbs said forcefully. “No, DiNozzo.”

“Gibbs,” Tony breathed softly. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be. You wanted this. I’m giving you what you want. With no fuss. For once.”

“This is not what I wanted.”

Tony snorted. “Could’ve fooled me, Gibbs. You don’t want me on your team. Everybody knows it. Hell, the FBI knows it. I’m only doing what’s right for everyone.”

“This is _not_ what I wanted,” Gibbs repeated, his intense blue gaze on Tony. “You’re my partner.”

“I was, Gibbs. But you’ve made it very clear that I’m not anymore.”

Gibbs growled. “Not what I meant to do.”

“Maybe so. But I can’t keep coming around, begging for what you don’t want to give me. Or can’t give me.” Tony’s eyes were sad, but serious. “It’s time for me to move on. And for the record, Gibbs, fifteen years is the longest I’ve ever been anywhere. Including my childhood. So that’s something you can be proud of.”

“DiNozzo!”

“If you can’t be supportive of this, of me, then I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Tony’s voice was quiet but determined. “I’m done trying to get your approval.” He opened his refrigerator and took out the six-pack, and pushed all of Gibbs’ offerings towards him. “You can see yourself out.”

“Wait,” Gibbs put both hands on the island. “Just wait. You’re springing this on me.”

“Am I?” Tony gave him a look. “When did you hear me sing? Last week?”

Gibbs nodded.

“Then you’ve known for a week.”

Gibbs nodded slowly. “I was hoping I was wrong.”

“You know your gut is never wrong.”

“Fuck!” Gibbs pounded the island with his fist.

“It’s time,” Tony said sadly. “I can’t hang around being your second, being your whipping boy forever, Gibbs.”

“I _know_ that,” Gibbs said, fist now going to his chest, rubbing it gently. “I do know that. You’ve been too good to be my SFA for years now.”

Tony’s full lips wobbled a little at that declaration, and he nodded. “Thank you for that, Boss,” he said softly.

Gibbs realized that in the entire conversation, it was the first time that Tony had addressed him as ‘Boss’, sticking to his last name up until then. And for some reason, this realization hurt him more than he thought possible.

They stood, silently staring at each other for long moments.

“So…you want to eat some dinner?” Tony asked, breaking the silence.

Gibbs breathed out a long sigh and nodded, accepting the olive branch Tony was holding out.

“What’d you get?” the younger man turned away, pulling out plates and utensils.

“Buncha stuff.”

Tony unpacked the bag, pulling out containers and opening them up. Gibbs had brought them a veritable feast, and all of it things that Tony loved from La Tavola. Whatever else Gibbs was, he did pay attention to detail. Tony flashed him a happy smile.

“They said the wine I brought would go with the food,” Gibbs said gruffly.

Tony looked at the label and nodded in agreement. He pulled a corkscrew out of a drawer, opened the bottle and poured himself a glass, silently offering Gibbs wine, but he shook his head. Tony opened a beer and handed it to the man, as he made a plate of pasta carbonara, chicken cacciatore and bistecca, handing the plate to Gibbs and pointing to the living room.

Gibbs took his plate to the sofa and sat, waiting for Tony to fix his own plate and come to the sofa. When they had plates of food and a drink, they sat side by side, eating silently as something played quietly on Tony’s television. Instead of filling in the silence with his usual brand of chatter, Tony kept his mouth shut, picked at his food and kept half an eye on the television. And without his voice chatting away, the silence started to feel oppressive.

Finally, unable to stand the it anymore, Gibbs blurted the first thing that came to mind. “I saw you that night.”

Tony raised an inquiring eyebrow.

“You sang. And played the piano.”

“Right. You said. At the bar,” Tony nodded.

“You’re good.”

The man shrugged.

“Really good.”

He gave Gibbs a small smile, the sweet shy one that Gibbs hadn’t seen directed towards him in forever. It made his heart pound. “Thanks,” he said. “I’m surprised you didn’t confront me right there.”

“Almost did.”

Tony nodded.

“Was deciding what to do when I saw you in the parking lot. Breaking up with a guy?”

Tony whipped his head around to stare at Gibbs in shock.

“What was he? _Army_?” Gibbs asked snidely.

Tony nodded, recovering quickly. “Green Beret,” he admitted.

“You went for Special Forces, DiNozzo?”

Tony grinned. “I have a type,” he said wryly.

“Seemed like you’d been seeing him a while,” Gibbs said carefully.

Tony nodded again. “Little over a year. But I wasn’t breaking up with him.”

Gibbs gave him a look.

“I mean that I’d already broken up with him. He wasn’t even supposed to even know I go to that bar to sing. It was a bit of a surprise that he was there.”

“You broke his heart.”

Tony sighed, scrubbing his face with his hands. “I didn’t love him the way he loved me,” he said hoarsely. “He deserved to be loved fully. He deserved someone who loved him back, just as much. That wasn’t me. No one should be in a relationship where there’s no hope that the one that you love would ever love you back the way you love them.”

Gibbs gave him a long look. “Sound like you know what he’s going through.”

He grunted. “It’s kinder to break up now, than to drag this out longer. He’ll only be hurt more.”

“You still hung up on Ziva?”

Tony’s green eyes looked up at him, startled, and he laughed bitterly. “No. No. Not Ziva,” he shook his head. He stood and got the bottle of wine and another beer for Gibbs, sitting back down and pouring himself another glass.

“Zoe?”

Tony smiled at him before sipping his wine. “Nope. Not her, either.”

“McGee?” Gibbs guessed, unable to suppress a grin.

Tony chuckled, rolling his eyes. “God, that would be funny.”

“Didn’t know you were…” Gibbs tapered off hesitantly.

“Into men?” Tony finished Gibbs’ sentence.

He nodded.

“Not something you broadcast when you’re a cop,” Tony shrugged.

“And the women?”

“Why limit my options?” Tony grinned, a shadow of his usual saucy grin. “I find both men and women attractive.”

Gibbs grunted. That made so much sense about Tony that it surprised him that he hadn’t figured that out years ago.

“Were you more surprised about seeing me with Derek, or your gut telling you I was moving on from the MCRT?” Tony asked, his tone curious.

“Toss up,” Gibbs shrugged. Derek. Army. Special Forces. Green Beret. He filed all the information away. “The team know about… Derek?”

“Nope,” Tony shook his head. “Another reason he shouldn’t be with me. I didn’t tell anyone about us. He deserved better.”

“He tell people about you?”

Tony nodded. “Met his mom. His two grown-up daughters. Bunch of his friends.”

“Did it upset him, you not telling people about him?”

“Sure. I mean, he understood why, given that I’m in law enforcement. But I know it hurt him.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Gibbs asked.

“Didn’t think it would go over well. Except maybe with Abby and Ducky.”

“Not even me?”

Tony grinned. “You never like any of my girlfriends. Why would I think you’d like my boyfriend?”

Gibbs frowned at him.

“Can we stop talking about this?” Tony asked. “This conversation is beyond bizarre.”

Gibbs pursed his lips. “One more question. How did Zoe fit in?”

Tony sighed. “I had more of an open relationship with Derek. So I saw Zoe too.”

“They know about each other?”

“Derek knew about Zoe. But she only knew I dated other people. She and I weren’t exclusive. No specifics.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“Maybe it’s why I’m quitting my job and possibly moving to Spain?”

“Is it?”

Tony sighed. “Gibbs…”

“It’s a fair question. Are you thinking of leaving everything because of Derek? Or Zoe?”

“No,” Tony answered. “I can’t stay with you on your team. You’ve made that clear. And I’ve thought about this for months. I’m making this change because it’s what I need. This is for me, Gibbs. For once, I’m doing something that I need to do, instead of letting you or the team come first. Besides, I thought you were going to be supportive?” those green eyes glared at him.

“I’m trying,” Gibbs said honestly. “I’m just trying to understand if you’re making this drastic a change because of your personal life.”

“I’m not leaving because of Derek or Zoe.”

Gibbs glared at him. Tony had deflected the question. But before he could say anything else, Tony’s phone chirped.

“DiNozzo,” he answered. “Got it. Text me the address. Thanks.”

“Case?” Gibbs asked, automatically checking his phone. Dispatch had started calling Tony about cases while he had been recovering from his gunshot wounds, and he had asked them to continue to do that.

Tony nodded, rattling off the address and throwing the dishes in the sink as he called McGee and Bishop.

“Ride with me?” Gibbs offered.

Tony gave him a long look.

“Promise I’ll stop with the twenty questions.”

His lips quirked up and he nodded. Unselfconscious as always, Tony left the bedroom door open as he slipped out of his sweatpants and into jeans. Gibbs watched as he threw off the OSU t-shirt and buttoned up a dress shirt, tucking it efficiently into his jeans. Tony was ready to go in less than three minutes. All the way to the crime scene, Gibbs stared at the road and tried not to think about Tony’s bare ass, toned, muscled, and eminently fuckable, bent over as he pulled his jeans on.

Two non-stop days of work later, Gibbs found himself ringing Tony’s doorbell again, carrying pizza and beer this time. They’d closed the case and he’d sent everyone home a couple of hours ago. He’d tried to spend time in his basement, working on his neglected boat, but all he could think of was Tony.

Tony, whose eyes were still not his usual brilliance at work. Who was, at least to him, obviously starting to pull away from his team and his NCIS family. Tony was preparing himself for this, and now it was obvious to him that the younger man did not expect his family to support his decision and for him to be cast away because of it. In his eyes, he was protecting himself by putting walls up between them.

Gibbs had to repeatedly ring the doorbell, and was just about to look for Tony’s spare key, given to him years and years ago, that he had rarely ever used, when the door opened a crack. Tony peered out, the door chain still on.

“DiNozzo,” Gibbs greeted him.

A quiet grunt, and the door shut while Tony undid the chain and opened the door to let Gibbs in. The older man stifled a groan when he saw that Tony was dressed only in hastily pulled on boxers, riding low on his hips. He was bare-chested, nipples peeking out through his smattering of dark chest hair, his hair mussed, his eyelids heavy. Gibbs had obviously woken him up. They’d worked the past forty-eight hours non-stop, and unlike his team members, Tony hadn’t even had very many catnaps. The man was exhausted.

“Gibbs? We don’t have a case, do we?” Tony whined, eyes half closed.

“No. Did you eat yet?”

“Too tired,” Tony grumbled, stumbling to his sofa and falling into it, sprawled on his back. Gibbs could hear the younger man’s stomach growling. “I’m not in the mood for another talk,” he pouted.

“No talking. I brought pizza.”

Groaning, Tony sat up and held out a hand, palm upraised. Gibbs put a slice of sausage, pepperoni and extra cheese pizza into it. Eyes still mostly closed, the younger man started slowly chewing on the slice. Gibbs settled next to him on the sofa eating his own slice. After Tony had finished the slice, his head slowly slid down until he was resting on Gibbs’ shoulder, eyes closed, breathing deep and even again. It wasn’t the first time that Tony had fallen asleep on him, but it had probably been years and years since Tony had felt comfortable enough around him to do this. The fact that the younger man had allowed this to happen now meant a lot to Gibbs. He put his arm around the sleeping man, holding him close, pressing a soft kiss to his temple, smiling as Tony sighed in his sleep.

He sipped his beer and tried to reach the clicker but it was too far away for him to reach without dislodging the sleeping Tony. The younger man made a sleepy sound of protest at the movement, so Gibbs relaxed against the back of the sofa, one arm automatically going around the man’s shoulders, rubbing him soothingly. He yawned. He was bone tired, too.

The next thing he knew, sunlight was streaming in through Tony’s huge windows. He’d given the team the day off so Tony hadn’t turned any of his alarms on. Gibbs found that he was lying on his back, head propped on a pillow, pinned onto the surprisingly comfortable sofa by an armful of DiNozzo.

The younger man’s head was comfortably pillowed on his chest, one arm around his neck, his body in between Gibbs’ legs, cuddled up against his groin. Gibbs’ dick was more than interested in the warm, practically naked body sprawled across him, and Gibbs tried to control his reaction to the incredibly attractive man sleeping on him. He tried not to focus on the fact that Tony’s hot breaths were making his nipples stand up underneath his t-shirt, or the fact that Tony’s arm was around his neck, fingers tangled in his hair.

He laid there, holding his breath, trying to make his raging hard-on subside, trying to ignore the smell of Tony’s hair, clean, slightly citrusy with an undertone of DiNozzo. He sighed, adjusting himself carefully.

The man sleeping on his chest sighed and pulled his head upwards, burying his face in the crook of his neck and rubbing his entire body against Gibbs’ such that not even the thought of McGee and Ducky’s late mother kissing could make his cock stop reacting. And now Tony’s hot breath was against his neck, and it was all he could do not to moan with each of the man’s soft exhales.

A part of Gibbs wanted to jump off the sofa and out of the compromising position before Tony could wake up and notice the hard cock poking him in his belly, but a larger part of him wanted to just close his eyes and revel in being held so closely by the long-time secret object of his affections. The latter won, so he laid there, starting to pant as Tony kept breathing on his over-sensitive neck. Finally, the younger man pulled himself even closer and dropped a hot, open mouth kiss on his neck.

Gibbs shuddered, mouth open in a silent moan.

Tony smiled in his sleep, humming softly, continuing to kiss Gibbs’ neck, rubbing his boxer-encased morning wood against Gibbs’ jean-clad erection. When his tongue flicked out to lick Gibbs’ neck, the older man couldn’t help himself. He moaned. Resisting the urge to arch upwards and grind himself into Tony’s hard cock, Gibbs could feel Tony smiling in his sleep as he kissed and licked his way up Gibbs’ neck.

“Derek…” Tony mumbled sleepily.

The intimate way Tony said the name and the smile in his voice was more effective at dowsing Gibbs’ erection than any of the images Gibbs had tried earlier. His cock deflated, and he put his arms around Tony, surreptitiously dropping a kiss in his hair as he tried to rouse him.

“DiNozzo,” he said, gently rubbing Tony’s lower back.

The younger man hummed, deep in his chest. “More,” he moaned, stretching until Gibbs heard his vertebrae pop in several places. “’S niiiice.”

“DiNozzo,” Gibbs said, a little louder, tapping the back of Tony’s head in a gentle headslap as Tony started sucking on his neck in earnest.

With a snuffle, Tony raised his head, eyes fluttering open in a haze of sleepy confusion. “Boss?” he asked, after a moment of blank confusion. His eyes widened and he realized that he was rubbing his erection on his boss and dropping open mouthed kisses on his neck. He pulled away, falling off the sofa onto the floor in his haste to disengage from Gibbs.

Gibbs snorted with laughter at Tony’s shock, then tried to ignore the broad head of Tony’s still-erect cock that was poking out of the slit of his boxers. He resolutely ignored the sudden urge to throw himself onto the younger man and wrapping his lips around that tantalizing cockhead.

“What’s going on?” Tony managed to croak out when he found his voice.

“We fell asleep on your couch,” Gibbs told him.

Tony looked around wildly for another minute before he sat up and rubbed his eyes, yawning hugely. “Oh,” he said quietly. “And I was… Oh,” to Gibbs’ delight, the younger man’s entire body flushed with embarrassment. “Sorry about that.”

Gibbs sat up and smiled at him. “S’fine,” he said gruffly. “Can’t control what you do when you’re asleep.”

“Did I s-say anything?” Tony asked, his scrunched up face a bright crimson.

“I learned that you’re quite the cuddler and you like it when I rub your back.”

“God,” Tony covered his face, shaking his head.

“And you called me Derek.”

“I what?” Tony looked shocked. Then, Gibbs thought he saw a flash of confusion and gratitude before Tony shook his head again.

“Sure you’re over the guy?” Gibbs asked him seriously.

“Coffee should be brewed,” Tony picked himself up off the floor, his joints cracking, and stumbled into the kitchen. Gibbs padded through Tony’s bedroom, looking thoughtfully at his slept-in twin bed, through to the bathroom. By the time he returned to the kitchen, Tony was slumped on a barstool at the island, head pillowed in his arms, eyes closed, curled around a cup of coffee.

Gibbs ruffled his hair.

“Go on back to bed, DiNozzo,” he told the younger man. “We have the day off.”

Tony barely pried his eyes open. “Mmm. What?” he asked, confused.

Gibbs helped him off the stool and steered him to his bedroom, hand on his elbow, and watched as he collapsed face down onto the bed. He pulled the covers up over Tony’s legs and ass, silently lamenting covering all that lovely bare skin up, and he gently smoothed the covers, feeling the younger man’s firm ass. He’d deny groping Tony’s ass, but luckily for him Tony was too tired to notice. Tony’d pulled a pillow under his head and chest, sleeping on it the way he’d slept on Gibbs.

“See ya, DiNozzo,” Gibbs told him.

“Gibbs?” Tony raised his head, still looking confused.

“Go back to sleep,” came Gibbs’ order.

“K, Boss.”

Gibbs started to retreat to the living room, but turned back at the last minute. “DiNozzo?”

“Huh?” Tony’s head shot up again, and he blinked in confusion. Gibbs noted for the millionth time the amazingly long lashes fluttering against his cheeks.

“You gonna play at the bar on K street tonight?”

“Why?”

“Mind if I come hear you again? Maybe buy you a drink?”

Tony’s lips quirked up into a small smile. “Yeah?”

Gibbs nodded.

“K,” Tony gave him a surprised but pleased smile before settling his head back down. Gibbs watched as he obediently relaxed back into sleep. He stood and watched as Tony’s breathing became deep and even, scrutinizing the broad expanse of tanned skin that was Tony’s back. It was marred here and there by the scars accumulated during his two decades plus of law enforcement, and his penchant for throwing himself in front of bullets and other risk-taking behaviors. But his skin was still almost glowing, honey gold. Powerful muscles rippled under that golden skin when he shifted, hugging the pillow closer.

After a few moments, Gibbs tore his eyes away from the sight of Tony half naked and asleep. He went into the kitchen, rummaged through Tony’s cabinets and found a large to-go mug, emptying as much coffee as he could into it. He quietly grabbed his keys and left the apartment, locking the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thanks so much for all the kudos and comments for the first chapter! You guys are the best! :D


	3. Chapter 3

Gibbs sat at the same dark booth in the back, nursing a bourbon, nervously waiting. He’d been on edge the whole day. After leaving Tony’s apartment he hadn’t been able to relax into his normal routine. Working on the boat only made him that much more aware of the fact that he was sitting, confined in a small subterranean space, without Tony to keep him company. The unoccupied third step – Tony’s step, he thought to himself – made him lonely. But even when he left the basement, he couldn’t stop thinking about his soon-to-be ex-Senior Field Agent. Every time he sat on his couch, his brain was flooded with the memory of Tony’s hot breaths on his neck, followed by his lips and his tongue. Followed by the icy cold water bucket of Tony murmuring Derek’s name, contrasting hugely with the red hot stab of jealousy that coursed through him. Wishing that the name on Tony’s tongue was his and not Derek’s. What did Army guy have over him, anyway? He wasn’t that much younger than him. And he was Army. Green Berets had nothing on the Marines, Gibbs thought grumpily.

But still, there he was, at the bar, waiting to see if Tony would play. Wanting to hear the younger man’s soulful, sultry voice again, and watch how the crowd ate up his performance. Wanting to be the man that Tony sat with, allowing him to buy him drinks, in between sets, making him the envy of the bar.

He changed his shirt three times – first donning one of his nice new dress shirts, then switching out to a more casual t-shirt, and then switching to one of his old polo shirts. Tony used to tease him about his old clothes, and had not said much about his newly refurbished post-The Calling wardrobe, so maybe wearing one of his older shirts would be a conversation starter.

And then he mentally slapped himself in the head. When had he ever needed a conversation starter for DiNozzo?

But that was it, wasn’t it? He didn’t want to go and watch DiNozzo perform. He wanted to watch Tony. T. And it was worth it to try and do something different to get T’s attention. After all, the chatty bartender had said that T let people buy him drinks sometimes. Maybe T would let Gibbs buy him a drink tonight.

So there he was, calling on all of his sniper-trained patience, sitting at the booth, not displaying any of the nervous energy that he was brimming with. Wondering if perhaps Tony wasn’t going to show up that night. Wondering if there had been a miscommunication. After all, the man had been mostly asleep when he’d invited himself to the piano bar to watch him perform.

He found himself wondering if perhaps Tony _had_ been asleep when he’d said he would be at the piano bar that night, and hadn’t even planned on being there. But then the lights dimmed and he watched as the lithe figure that was T strode up the stage steps, two at a time, and settled himself behind the baby grand. He looked up at the expectant crowd and smiled, and Gibbs thought it was one of the most beautiful smiles he’d ever seen Tony smile, especially when those vibrant green eyes of his unerringly spotted him even in the back booth. The younger man’s smile widened and he quirked an eyebrow at Gibbs before he settled in for his set.

Like the previous week, Tony played and sang a large number of songs, ending with a playful and bluesy rendition of Billy Joel’s _Baby Grand_. He started thanking the audience but they began insistently yelling for _Goodbye Yellow Brick Road_.

He stared out into the bar, surprise on his face. “Really?” he said into the microphone.

The audience screamed their assent. Eyebrows raised, T stared out into the crowd, lips quirked up in a hint of a smile. He looked into the dark booth in the back and stared into Gibbs’ eyes. The older man nodded his own agreement before putting his fingers into his mouth and blowing a loud wolf whistle. T nodded slightly, his expression now bemused, before he shook his head and rolled his eyes at the audience.

“Alright then,” he said into the mic. “By popular demand, _Goodbye Yellow Brick Road_.”

The opening chords began, a stark, repeated chord, the same one that has haunted Gibbs’ memories. As before, T threw himself into the song, expressing his sorrow at the decision that he had made regarding his own future. Now knowing that Tony meant to leave him, regardless of what he did, Gibbs found himself soaking in every note, every little shade of every word, every hitch of Tony’s breath as he sang his heart out. The audience was deathly silent, absorbing T’s powerful re-imagining of an already sad song.

When the final chord died down, the audience response was thunderous. Gibbs watched as T sat, eyes closed, his face a picture of grief, before he collected himself, opened his eyes, and smiled his big smile at the crowd, thanking them gracefully before slipping away backstage.

Gibbs flagged a server down and asked her to bring whatever T’s usual was. She looked at him skeptically.

“Does he know he’s joining you?” she asked. “You want me to give him a note or something?”

“He knows,” Gibbs said confidently, hoping that Tony would, as he’d promised, allow him to buy him a drink.

She snorted, but returned shortly with a glass of scotch. Gibbs guessed that it was probably MacAllan 18.

“Remind him he has another set, so only one of these,” the server told him. “That’s _if_ he joins you,” she sniffed, giving him a look.

Gibbs kept his eye on her as she walked away, slipping through the crowd like a pro. He wondered what the dynamic was there. A jilted one night stand? He watched as the woman walked past Tony, grabbed his arm and leaned up to whisper in his ear. Tony smiled reassuringly, patting her back, but the woman’s expression remained concerned.

Gibbs could read their lips, the words were so clearly enunciated.

 _He’s trouble_ , she said to him.

 _He’s just a friend_ , he told her.

She flicked the booth in the back a dark look. _Be careful. This one will hurt you_.

 _I’ll be OK_ , T said to her, shaking his head at her concern and kissing her cheek before making his way over.

Gibbs was shocked. The staff at this bar was protective of his big bad Senior Field Agent. They had not seen him in action in the field, shooting down terrorists and criminals, intimidating even the scariest of criminals in Interrogation, hadn’t seen him in a fist fight and winning, ever the scrappy brawler, or fighting to live through the pneumonic plague. As far as they could tell, he showed up every so often, playing piano and singing, and given the kind of grief that Gibbs had been giving him all these years, he’d probably come here singing sad songs, allowing these people to glimpse his vulnerabilities in a way that he had not allowed anyone at NCIS to. The server was looking out for him, instinctively knowing that Gibbs had the ability to inflict pain on T. Lucky for him, she didn’t know how much pain he had already caused the man or he had no doubt that he would’ve been wearing the scotch.

Tony dropped into the booth, across from Gibbs, scooting in and angling himself a little such that he didn’t have his back to the crowd. Even now, like Gibbs, he was unable to sit without being aware of the room. Danger lurked everywhere for them.

“You were really good,” Gibbs told him, pushing the scotch closer.

Grinning sheepishly, Tony shrugged and sipped his drink.

“She told me you only get one of these. You have another set?”

“Laura’s a sweetheart. She won’t let me have another one of these later either. Only one unless I want to cab home,” he rolled his eyes.

“Thanks for letting me come tonight.”

“Free country.” Tony stared out into the crowd, smiling at some people before turning back to Gibbs, eyes flicking over him. “Haven’t seen _that_ shirt in a while. Thought you gave up the Sears stuff for the new suits?”

Gibbs grinned. “Thought you’d appreciate the effort I made, wearing this to see you play. Had to dig it out from all the way in the back of my closet.”

Tony snorted with laughter before falling silent. They stared at each other wordlessly for long minutes, Tony’s long fingers playing with his glass.

“So,” Gibbs finally said.

“So…” Tony responded, nodding.

“You’re really leaving then?”

Tony sighed, looking down.

“Hey.”

He looked up, meeting Gibbs’ blue gaze.

“It’s a good move,” Gibbs said softly. “Your talents are wasted as my second.”

The surprise in Tony’s expression stabbed at Gibbs’ conscience. He nodded mutely, sipping his drink nervously.

“But I don’t think you should go to Rota. Great for your career. But your family is here.”

Tony shrugged. “Eh. You’ll get along without me.”

“We’ll miss you.”

Tony looked skeptical. Gibbs was reminded of Tony’s self-esteem and how low it really was, despite his big talk and braggadocio.

“You don’t have to stay in DC. But choose somewhere we can visit you easily. Chicago. New York. Even San Francisco.”

“You’d rather I go to the FBI?” Tony grinned playfully. “This is serious, Boss!”

“If you’re choosing your own team, then you’ll pick the best people. They’ll have your six. You won’t let one of their usual crappy incompetent suits be part of _your_ team,” Gibbs said confidently.

Tony laughed out loud at this, surprised and pleased.

“Stay in country. We could come visit you on weekends and things. You could come home to us for the holidays.”

Tony sucked in a deep breath, and Gibbs saw a bright sheen of tears in his eyes again. He nodded, carefully keeping his face averted. “Yeah,” he finally said, his voice cracking slightly.

Gibbs reached across the table, cupped his face and gently turned it, waiting until Tony’s big green eyes looked up, meeting his gaze. “This is your home, and we’re your family,” he said, thumb caressing Tony’s cheek. “Let us be happy for you and proud of you. Don’t cut us out. We’ll still be here for you, no matter where you go.”

Tony blinked, his face crimson, and a tear spilled from the corner of one eye.

Gibbs’ calloused thumb gently swept the tear away. They stared into each other’s eyes, Gibbs’ hand on Tony’s face, before Tony sighed and nodded. The older man released his grip and pulled his hand back, smiling faintly.

“You’re a hell of an agent, DiNozzo,” Gibbs continued. “Should’ve told you that more often.”

Tony nodded, biting his wobbly lips and knuckling the moisture out of his eyes. “Thank you, Boss,” he whispered huskily.

“How you’re going to break this news to Abby, I have no idea,” Gibbs said, shaking his head.

Tony groaned, his eyes thanking Gibbs for the change of subject. “She’s gonna kill me.”

“She’s gonna build a shrine to you, make voodoo dolls, and cry her eyes out.”

“Fuck. Maybe I _should_ take Rota and run as far as I can from that backlash.”

Gibbs grinned. “You think there’s any place far enough away from that?”

“Good point.”

They grinned at each other.

“You tell your father yet?”

Tony shrugged, pursing his lips.

“No, then?”

He blew out a long breath. “Nope.”

“Something happen between you two?”

The younger man shrugged, quiet and eloquent in his dislike for the topic of conversation.

“You’ve still been having your weekly lunches with him?”

“Sure.”

“You don’t think he’ll care?”

“Oh, he’ll care. In his own special way.”

“What happened? You guys seemed to be working things out.”

“Eh,” Tony said, his eyes hooded.

“What did he do?”

Surprised, Tony raised his eyes to meet Gibbs’ stare. “What makes you think it’s something _he_ did?” he asked.

Gibbs sighed. “He’s your father, Tony. I know what he’s like. And I know what you’re like. It wasn’t you who did something.”

Giving a quiet, self-deprecating chuckle, Tony sighed and sipped his scotch. “Just something he said.”

“He say something hurtful?”

“Nah, I’m used to that. Every other word from him can be hurtful,” Tony shrugged. “He’s who he is. I’ve accepted that.”

Gibbs cringed inwardly at the easy way he’d said it. He wasn’t deflecting. He was speaking the truth, and he didn’t even realize that that wasn’t how things should be with one’s own father. “Then?”

Tony looked blindly out into the crowd. Slow music played on the sound system, and a few couples were dancing. “Remember that homeless woman?”

“Sure. Susan? He helped her.”

Tony nodded. “Found her a hospice, stayed with her. Until the end.”

“Sounds thoughtful,” Gibbs said carefully. “Maybe a little out of character?”

Tony pursed his lips. “It’s so petty,” he finally said, snorting at himself.

“If it’s got you this upset, it probably isn’t.”

“No. It is. He helped that poor woman, and she had no one.”

Gibbs grunted and nodded.

“Her parents threw her out because she was gay, you know?”

Gibbs nodded again.

“I heard him say things to her, pretending to be her dad. He talked to her about how he accepted her for who she was, and loved her, and shouldn’t have sent her away. That he loved her. All kinds of nice things.”

Gibbs sighed, understanding. “He told her the things she needed to hear.”

Tony hummed and nodded, still looking out into the bar.

“But he’s never said any of those things to you,” Gibbs said to him.

Tony shook his head sadly. “Nope. Well, he told me he loved me once, but I’m not sure I believed him. But he did throw me away when I was twelve, and unlike Susan, I was never given a real reason for that.” He pursed his lips. “Anyway, I’d have to be dying for him to say shit like that to me now. And even so. I have my doubts he’d do it.”

“Tony…”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Just the way he is.”

“It’s not petty.”

“Yeah, it is. I was jealous of a poor, sick, dying homeless woman.”

“Those are words he should have said to you a long time ago.”

“Like it would have meant anything coming from _him_ ,” Tony said bitterly. “Point being, I’m so fucking selfish and self-centered I can’t even hear him be nice to a poor dying woman without being jealous and thinking of myself.”

“Tony,” Gibbs snapped at him. “Your father is a dumbass. He’s trying, but a lifetime of being a terrible father doesn’t just go away that easily. You were neglected, emotionally abused, and disowned as a child. Just because he’s trying now doesn’t mean he’s been able to wipe away all your past history. That he’s able to give those words to a poor dying woman gives me hope that he’s not a completely lost cause. But for fuck’s sake. Cut yourself some slack. Those are words that he should have said to you. Hell, those are things you should know without him even having to say it to you out loud. It’s what a father is supposed to do, love his child unconditionally. He obviously failed you in so many ways.”

Tony stared at him, green eyes wide with shock.

“ _What? My_ father showed up to my wife’s funeral with a date and I stopped speaking to him for over fifteen years. If he’d done anything half as hurtful to me that Senior’s done to you, we’d still have not been on speaking terms when he died,” Gibbs said curtly. “You’re incredibly forgiving.”

Tony’s mouth dropped open and he gaped at Gibbs.

Gently, Gibbs reached over and closed Tony’s mouth, smiling faintly.

“Drink your drink and stop feeling guilty about being mad at your dumbass father.”

Tony shook his head, chuckling disbelievingly. “Why’d you encourage me to maintain a good relationship with the man?”

“Because _you_ needed it, Tony,” Gibbs sighed. “You still needed for him to see you, and acknowledge you, and maybe even take back some of those awful things he said about you when you were young. You’re not in the gutter. You’ve made something of yourself, something hell of a lot more noble than he has. Yet you still want him to love you. You need him to love you.”

Tony snorted derisively.

“And it doesn’t make you needy or childish,” Gibbs said softly. “Just makes you a son who needs a father because he never really had one.”

Tony’s eyes brimmed with tears again. “Fuck, Gibbs. For a functional mute, you sure have a lot to say.”

Gibbs reached across the table and gently put his hand over Tony’s. “Should’ve said so many things to you long ago, Tony.”

Tony looked at him, smiling that small, shy smile that went straight to Gibbs’ heart. “Thanks, Boss. I mean it.”

Gibbs rolled his eyes and shrugged, but kept his hand on Tony’s, and for his part, the younger man didn’t pull away from him.

“Maybe I should’ve left years ago, if it meant you’d be so nice to me,” the younger man joked.

“Bite your tongue, DiNozzo,” Gibbs grinned.

“So, I thought you said there wasn’t anyone else?” an angry voice demanded.

Both Tony and Gibbs looked up, Tony snatching his hand away guiltily as he stared at his ex-boyfriend, Army, Green Beret, Derek, who glared at them, blue eyes glinting dangerously. Gibbs watched Tony sigh tiredly. He could smell the alcohol fumes coming off of the man.

“Go home, Derek. You’re drunk,” Tony said quietly.

“Whose fault is that?” Derek growled.

“I’m gonna say, yours? Cause you’re the one who chose to get shit-faced?”

Derek laughed bitterly. “Always the goddamned joker, you glib son of a bitch. You lied to me Tony. You said there wasn’t anyone else. And yet, here you are, cozying up to _this_ guy.” He gave Gibbs a disdainful once over. “God. You _do_ have a type.”

“There’s no one else. We’re just friends.” Tony stood, cell phone in one hand. “C’mon. I’ll call you a cab.”

Derek reached over and wrenched Tony’s wrist, making him drop his phone. In a flash, both Gibbs and Tony acted. Tony broke the hold swiftly, pushing the other man face down on the table, one arm bent painfully behind him, kicking his legs apart, a classic cop takedown move, while Gibbs pulled his cuffs out.

“Don’t make my boss cuff you, man,” Tony told him, ignoring the gasps and looks from the crowd.

The bouncer came running. “You OK, T?” he pushed Derek’s head down on the table, startled at how effectively Tony had immobilized the man, and his eyes widened when Gibbs slipped his cuffs away. “Are you arresting him?”

“Nah. Derek’s just had way too much to drink,” Tony said easily, smiling at the bouncer. “You’re just gonna go home now, right Derek? I’ll call you a cab. Or you can let Gibbs here cuff you and I’ll call your daughter to pick you up.”

“ _Gibbs_?? This is Gibbs? He’s your fuckin’ _boss_? _This_ is the guy you’ve been dreaming about, been in love with for years, pining for him, saying his name in your sleep, fantasizing about him when we’re having sex?” Derek exclaimed, struggling against Tony.

“And here we go,” Tony said wryly. “Just shut up Derek. Or I’ll cuff you myself. And not with the leather cuffs.”

The bouncer pulled out a zip tie. “You gonna come quietly?” the huge man asked Derek.

The fight suddenly went out of him, and he slumped onto the table with a sob. “Tony…” he sniffed, begging. “Please…”

“Go home, Derek. It’s done,” Tony said, stepping away and letting the bouncer pull the man upright.

“You OK with _this_ guy, T?” the bouncer jerked his head towards Gibbs.

“We’re cool, J-man.”

The large, black man glared at Gibbs, a wordless reminder that nobody was going to hurt T while he was in the bar, and Gibbs gave him a nod of agreement.

“Don’t make me come back over here. I’ll be keeping my eye on you,” the bouncer warned them, still giving Gibbs the evil eye, before hauling Derek away.

Tony ignored the stares from nearby tables, and slid back into the booth, grabbing his glass and downing the rest of its content in one swallow. “Right,” he said brightly to Gibbs. “I think I’m going to skip my second set, go home, and die now.”

Gibbs couldn’t help himself. He laughed. Loudly.

“Shit, Boss. You think my private life is funny?” Tony was blushing a bright crimson again. “Forget going home and dying. I’m going to spontaneously combust right here.”

Gibbs roared with laughter, tears leaking out of his eyes. Finally, he stopped laughing. Shaking his head, he sighed and rolled his eyes at Tony. “I expect to have to pull the cuffs out on one of Abby’s boyfriends,” he said, eyebrow quirking. “Not one of yours, Tony.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” Tony said surlily.

“That’s what she’d say too.”

And suddenly Tony started laughing too, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. “Fuck, what a crazy night,” he sighed.

“Your waitress friend is about to kill me with a steak knife,” Gibbs said, casually looking around.

“She’s protective.” But he turned and smiled reassuringly at her, urging her to stand down.

“How long have you been coming here?”

Tony thought for a moment. “On and off, since I came back from being Agent Afloat, I guess?”

“Shit, it’s no wonder they’re all ready to protect you from the world,” Gibbs shook his head.

Tony shrugged, smiling fondly. “They’ve been good to me here,” he nodded.

“Gave you what you needed. A place to be yourself.”

Tony sighed. “Whatever the hell that means.”

Gibbs gave him a thoughtful look at that.

Tony scrutinized Gibbs from under his eyelashes, and the older man could tell that he was wondering if Gibbs would bring up what Derek had said, about him. About Gibbs. And the speaking his name in his sleep. And the loving him and pining for him. But Gibbs kept his expression open, forcing himself not to react to the words.

“Go play your second set,” he told him.

“Hmmm,” Tony said. He reached across the table, grabbed Gibbs’ glass and chugged the bourbon, making a face as it went down. “Right. Let’s play.”

He stood, gave Gibbs an uncertain smile, and made his way to the bar. He slipped away and Laura, the server, brought Gibbs another shot of bourbon.

“From T,” she told him.

Tony’s second set went smoothly, and he finished with the expected song, disappearing backstage without even thanking the crowd. After ten minutes, Gibbs wondered if maybe Tony had left. But just as he was about to drop some money on the table and go in search of the younger man, Tony turned up, carrying a bottle of water. He slid quietly back into the booth and sipped the water.

“Thanks for coming to see me sing,” he smiled brightly. Gibbs could see that he was employing the ‘everything’s OK, I’m fine’ mask. “A-and thanks. For being, you know. Supportive? About my leaving.”

Gibbs nodded. “You going home now?” he asked the younger man.

“Yep,” Tony said, nodding his head and pursing his lips, dimples appearing in his cheeks.

“You eaten?”

Eyes wide, Tony shook his head.

“Come to the house. I’ll make you cowboy steaks.”

“Uh,” Tony hesitated, and Gibbs could see the wheels turning in his mind, trying to analyze the situation and figure out what Gibbs was trying to do and what he should do to gain the best outcome.

“Don’t overthink this,” Gibbs told him. “Eat dinner with me. You’ve had a rough night.”

Tony stared at him for a long moment before he nodded.

Gibbs pulled out his wallet, dropped a few bills on the table, and stood. Before he walked away, he bent and spoke right in Tony’s ear. “Don’t make me come looking for you,” he said.

“N-no, Boss,” Tony stammered.

Gibbs could feel Tony’s eyes on him as he made his way to the exit. Before he left, he turned to look back. Tony was sitting at their table, staring at him. He flashed him a grin and a nod before he ducked out the exit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There should only be one final long chapter left of the story. :)
> 
> And you guys rock! Thanks for the kudos and comments!!


	4. Chapter 4

Gibbs was just putting the steaks on the fire when his front door opened and shut, and soft footsteps made their way in hesitantly. It had been months since Tony had been there, but his footsteps were still distinct. Gibbs would know his second’s tread anywhere.

“Hey, Boss,” came the almost normal sounding greeting.

Gibbs turned, gave him a smile and put the steaks on the fire. Tony walked in, still hesitant, but made his way to the kitchen to put the six-pack of Gibbs’ favorite microbrew in the fridge. He opened two, effortlessly tossed the lids into Gibbs’ kitchen trash without even looking, and handed one to Gibbs, who was kneeling by the fireplace.

The older man took the beer, grunted his thanks and jerked his head to the couch. “Never needed an invitation to sit before. Sit.”

“Yeah, Boss,” Tony said softly before he gingerly sat on the lumpy old couch. He looked around, taking in the familiar surroundings. He hadn’t been at Gibbs’ since the winter storm and the team sleepover. And before that he hadn’t been there since the time he’d brought a garment bag for Gibbs to use on his trip to California. Even though he hadn’t really been there in a while, like everything else, Gibbs hadn’t changed anything.

He sighed noisily and took a long pull of his beer.

“You OK?” Gibbs asked.

“What?” he said, surprised.

“Big sigh.”

He shrugged. Gibbs thought he might not even have been consciously sighing. “Everything changes,” he finally said. “Everything remains the same.”

Gibbs nodded.

Tony sat in silence until Gibbs pulled the steaks off the fire and onto plates. He pulled foil-wrapped potatoes out of the oven and put one on each plate. Tony grabbed forks, napkins, butter and sour cream, and more beer. They turned the TV on, found a baseball game, and kept it on low as they clinked beer bottles and ate, both men pulling razor sharp knives out of their pocket to cut their steaks with. Tony was uncharacteristically silent throughout dinner.

Finally, when they both pushed their plates away, Tony complimented Gibbs’ steak and leaned back with a sigh.

“This is different,” Gibbs said.

“Hmm?”

“You’re quiet.”

Tony shrugged. “Wise men talk because they have something to say; fools, because they have to say something.”

“What is up with the zen thing?”

Tony chuckled. “Sorry. Been on a bit of a Plato kick lately.”

“For your doctorate?”

Tony stared at him, eyes wide with surprise, before he snorts and shakes his head. “Course you know about that.”

“So. Plato, huh?”

Tony nodded.

“He help you with the changes you’re making?”

Tony grinned. “Kind of. He said a couple of things that stood out.”

“Tell me.”

Tony cleared his throat, his ears turning pink. “Well. He said ‘Courage is knowing what not to fear’.”

Gibbs grunted approvingly. “Moving on and moving up is definitely not something you should fear.”

The younger man’s face flushed attractively. “Thanks, Boss.”

After a moment of silence, Gibbs gently kicked Tony’s foot. “You said there were a couple of things. What’s the second?”

“Uh. ‘A good decision is based on knowledge and not on numbers’.”

Gibbs gave him a look. “Kind of makes sense. But how would you get the knowledge if it’s your first time doing something?”

“I like it when Han Solo paraphrased it. ‘Never tell me the odds’.”

Gibbs shook his head at the ready movie quote. “So what do you know then, that makes leaving the MCRT a good decision?”

Tony shrugged. “It’s just time,” he said softly.

They sat watching the game for a couple more minutes before Gibbs decided to stop dancing around the topic. “This have anything to do with what your ex-boyfriend said?” his lip curled disdainfully at the ‘ex-boyfriend’. “About me?” And he watched as Tony sat, actually seeing when Tony discarded the impulse to deflect or even to lie outright.

The younger man’s shoulders sagged and he curled into himself, keeping his face down. He nodded slowly.

“And what is it that you know or think you know?”

Tony paled, and blew out a huge breath. “How about we not talk about this?” he said hoarsely.

“Maybe we ought to.”

He put his drink down on the side table and scrubbed his face with his hands.

“Was Derek just drunk, or was there truth to what he said about how you felt? About me?” Gibbs asked, knowing that he was giving the younger man an out. Wondering what Tony’s response would be.

After a long moment of silence, Tony tried to speak, but had to clear his throat a few times before he could get his voice to work. “Truth,” he finally choked out. “Don’t kill me, Boss,” he said, trying for humor, finally looking up and seeing the curious look on Gibbs’ face.

“That why you stayed so long?”

“Probably. It’s the question I’ve been asking myself a lot this past year.”

“So…what is it that you know that makes leaving DC a good decision?”

“Fuck, Gibbs! Haven’t I been humiliated enough?” Tony snapped, face coloring again. “If we can’t just watch this stupid game, I’m going home.”

A gentle hand on his arm calmed him somewhat. “Humor me,” Gibbs said softly. “Please.”

It was the please that did it, Gibbs knew. He never used the word. That and sorry. Anathema to him. He watched as the startled Tony struggled to control himself, keeping his hand on Tony’s arm. Afraid that if he let go, Tony would bolt.

“Talk to me,” he coaxed.

Finally, breaths coming in pants, fingers trembling, Tony turned his head away, but began speaking. “I know that I’ve been in love with you so long I don’t even remember when it happened. I don’t even remember a time when I wasn’t in love with you,” he whispered. “I know that I don’t stand a chance of you even thinking of me like you might a redhead, I knew that from the beginning. I know that leaving DC is the only way I’ll ever have any hope of getting over you. And I know that I need to get over you. Because I know I can’t keep living like this. I’m tired of my heart pounding every time you say something nice to me, or invite me over for cowboy steaks, or worrying myself stupid over every unkind word that you say, or wondering why you stopped asking me over, or stopped making me feel welcome in your house when I did show up. I’m tired of taking whatever crap you dish out and coming back for seconds because I think, hey, at least you’re giving me some kind of attention. I’m tired of living half a life, and hurting stupid people like Derek who think that they can fix me, who think that they’ll be the one to make me forget you and make me love them the way I love you. I am sick to _death_ of running in this hamster wheel that is my life! I have exactly the same things I have now that I had fifteen years ago. I haven’t moved anywhere. I haven’t made anything more of myself. And I know that this needs to stop.”

Gibbs watched as silent tears tracked down from the corner of the younger man’s eyes, and his fingers trembled uncontrollably as he swiped angrily at his face. His heart broke at the quiet desolation in Tony’s voice, and regret flooded him for all the hurt he had caused this man. But yet, a small sliver of hope bloomed in his chest.

Tony loved him.

He moved closer, brushing his thigh against the younger man’s. Moving slowly, he put a hand on the back of Tony’s neck and gently rubbed it, running his fingers through the soft hair, feeling the tenseness in his neck and shoulders. With the other hand, he cupped Tony’s face and turned it towards him.

“Tony,” he said softly, thumb brushing away the tears that kept leaking from those beautiful green eyes. “God. I’m so sorry.”

Those mournful green eyes stared at him, barely blinking. “Whatever happened to Rule Six?” he muttered.

“I think it went out the window along with Rule Eight.”

“Are you apologizing for taking me for granted?” Tony looked confused now.

“Never assume,” Gibbs corrected him. “Although I did take you for granted. But that’s a whole other topic. I made some assumptions and you made some assumptions. We were both mistaken.”

“W-what are you talking about?”

“I never had a clue you weren’t strictly straight until I saw you breaking up with Derek.”

“So?”

“So, I would’ve done this a long time ago if I’d known,” Gibbs’ voice was husky, and he leaned in and brushed his lips over Tony’s, a soft, dry kiss, as his fingers caressed the back of his head with gentle fingers, rubbing his scalp and tugging gently at his hair.

The younger man froze, staring at him, deer in headlights.

Gibbs leaned in again, licking his lips before he brushed them over Tony’s full lips again, sucking his luscious lower lip into his mouth, and licking gently, requesting entry.

“Wha..?” Tony started to say, but Gibbs took advantage of the open mouth to push his tongue in and silenced the younger man by exploring his mouth with his tongue. This broke Tony out of the funk, and he opened his mouth and began kissing back, moaning when Gibbs sucked on his tongue.

The sound of Tony moaning into his mouth went straight to Gibbs’ cock, making him hard. Harder than he’d been in a long time.

Gibbs knew they needed to talk some more, but his brain was definitely short of blood, given how hard his cock was. He pulled Tony closer, angling his head, deepening the kiss, tasting steak, beer, and something else, something sweet and clean, and masculine. It was pure DiNozzo, and it was heady.

When Tony finally broke the kiss to breathe, Gibbs had pushed him down on the couch and was lying on top of him, both hands tangled in his short hair, rubbing their hardening dicks together over two layers of denim.

Smiling at him, the older man kissed and licked his way down Tony’s jawline to his ear, and his hot breath in the delicate shell of the ear made him shudder and arch into the hard body on top of him. He began whimpering, soft, needy whimpers, when Gibbs left wet, open-mouthed kisses down his neck.

“W-wait,” Tony moaned. “What are you doing?”

Gibbs pulled away and looked deep into Tony’s eyes, smiling at him. “Kissing you.” The unsaid ‘dumbass’ hung in the air.

“I don’t understand,” the younger man stammered. “W-why?”

Gibbs sighed, seeing insecurity flash through Tony’s eyes. “I know this is a lot to take in. For me, too. But can we talk this to death after we’re done making out?”

Tony turned his head away, even as he arched up, grinding his hard cock against Gibbs’. “I can’t just be your fuck buddy, Gibbs,” he whispered.

“Tony,” Gibbs kissed his bared neck, eliciting a groan out of the younger man, before turning Tony’s face back to his with a gentle hand. “I love you, you idiot. Loved you for years. Didn’t think I had snowball’s chance in hell with you.”

“What?” he squawked.

Gibbs smiled at the outrage in the green eyes. “We both broke Rule Eight. Assumed things that weren’t true.”

“You love me?”

Gibbs nodded.

“But I’m not a redhead. Or a woman.”

“I noticed that,” Gibbs said slowly, leering over Tony’s body.

Tony blinked slowly, pupils blown wide, a thin sliver of green around his eyes. Then he pulled Gibbs’ head down and ground their lips together in a bruising kiss, sweeping his tongue into Gibbs’ mouth, tugging on his hair to angle him to his liking, devouring his mouth almost angrily. He opened his legs, wrapping them around the back of Gibbs’ legs, arching up against the older man. The kiss became more urgent, and Gibbs started thrusting against the hard cock he was cuddled up to.

Kissing him hard, Tony undid Gibbs’ belt, button and zipper, and stuck his hand down his pants, palming the hard dick. Gibbs groaned, breaking the kiss, when his long fingers wrapped around his throbbing shaft.

“Shit!” he gasped when the younger man started stroking him, hard and fast. He pushed up, kneeling in between Tony’s legs, pushing his jeans and boxers down past his ass while Tony continued to stroke him, twisting the cockhead, smearing the pre-cum all over the broad, purple head. He attacked Tony’s pants, drawing the younger man’s rock hard dick out and spitting on his hand before jacking him off in hard strokes.

Tony’s legs tightened around his calves, pulling him back down, their bared cocks rubbing together making them moan in tandem. Tony grasped the head of both their cocks and squeezed them together, moaning hard.

“Oh, fuck, Tony. Fuck, fuck,” Gibbs moaned, beginning to thrust against the younger man’s cock, putting his other hand over Tony’s, joining their dicks together more snugly. It was too much. Every time their cockheads rubbed together, Tony squeezed a little harder, his breaths coming in short, hard pants. Gibbs tried to hold back, to hold off his orgasm, but he felt it slam into him, and with a harsh cry he came, shooting thick white ribbons all over Tony’s chest and neck, even up to his chin. The younger man continued to stroke them, even after Gibbs’ orgasm, and he kept shuddering and convulsing. Even though he realized that the primal groans came from his own throat, he was powerless to stop them, as he heard Tony’s breath speed up and his moans grow urgent.

Finally he recovered enough to take over jacking him off, Tony’s cock now slippery with his come, and he tightened his grip and stroked hard and fast, watching as Tony’s mouth opened, mewling whimpers and grunts slipping from him. Tony’s legs tightened around him as his back arched.

“Please god, oh fuck,” Tony moaned, beginning to teeter over the brink. “Don’t stop. _Fuck. Fuck_!!!”

In a surprising move, Gibbs slid down through Tony’s legs, wrapped his lips around Tony’s angry cockhead and swallowed him down, feeling him brush the back of his throat. He pulled up, sucking hard before sucking back down and humming.

Tony thrust his dick deeper down the man’s throat and came, screaming as he spurted long, hot pulses down Gibbs’ throat, until he was spent. The older man swallowed it all and licked him clean before crawling back up the panting body, wiping a stray bit of cum off his face. Ignoring the sticky mess on Tony’s chest, he waited until Tony’s breaths slowed and the pulse point in his neck stopped pounding crazily. Finally, Tony opened his eyes.

Gibbs grinned cockily at him. “OK, _now_ we can talk,” he quipped.

Without even thinking, Tony slapped the back of his head before he pulled his head down for a slow, languorous kiss.

“Did you just give me a head slap?” Gibbs asked, when they broke apart.

“You act like me, I’ll Gibbs-slap you as appropriate,” Tony retorted, grinning.

They kissed gently for a while longer before sitting back up. Tony looked down at himself. His shirt was half-rucked up, covered in cum.

“Shit, Boss. You didn’t even bother to undress me,” he complained. “My dry cleaner hates me already.”

“Don’t you think you should start calling me Jethro?”

Tony looked surprised again.

“I think it’s time you called me by my first name, don’t you?”

The younger man nodded silently.

“Maybe next time you’re screaming when you come, you’ll scream my name?”

“It wasn’t a scream,” Tony denied it. “It was a yell. A manly yell.”

“It was a scream, and it made me want to come again,” Gibbs told him huskily. “So I hope you do that again.”

Gulping audibly, Tony nodded.

“Shower?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Gibbs stood, pulling his pants up and holding a hand out to the younger man.

Tony stared at the proffered hand blankly.

“With me?” Gibbs asked, his voice a caress. He watched as a smile bloomed slowly over Tony’s face, a huge, wide open smile, a genuine one, as he took the hand and stood.

“On your six, Bo—Jethro.”

Without exchanging many more words, they showered together, taking time to wash each other and spent long minutes kissing under the hot spray. Gibbs found Tony sweat pants and a USMC t-shirt for him to wear. The sweat pants were a little too short, and the t-shirt tight around Tony’s broader, bulkier chest, but Gibbs thought it was the sexiest thing he had ever seen the man wear.

Then they settled on the couch with a beer, actually watching a game this time, Tony’s head pillowed on Gibbs’ chest, Gibbs’ arm around the younger man’s shoulders, rubbing him gently.

When the game ended, they went upstairs and Gibbs drew him into the master bedroom, where he’d finally started sleeping again, pushing him on the bed and crawling in next to him. They kissed sloppily, smiling at each other. Gibbs pulled the younger man into his arms when he tried to turn away.

“Stay,” he whispered.

“Didn’t want to crowd you.”

“I want you in my arms. Waited a long time for you.”

Tony smiled. “Way too sappy, Jethro.”

Gibbs only smiled and opened his arms. The younger man settled himself down, head on Gibbs’ chest, one arm around his body, plastering himself against him. Gibbs pulled him close, rubbing his back, before he growled in frustration.

“What?” Tony sprang away nervously.

“I thought you sleep naked?”

“Uh, well… I wasn’t sure…”

“Let’s go.” Gibbs pulled the t-shirt off and helped pull the sweatpants off.

“You, too then,” Tony helped strip the older man before they resumed their positions.

This time, Gibbs stroked Tony’s bare back, from his shoulder down to his ass, sighed and yawned. “G’night, Tony.”

“Night, John-boy.”

Gibbs chuckled and kissed the top of his head. But even though Tony seemed settled and comfortable, Gibbs could tell that the young man was wide awake. Still keyed up.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing’s wrong,” came the immediate response.

“Tony…?”

“No, it’s fine. It’s fine.”

“You should know it worries me every time you use the word ‘fine’.”

Tony raised his head and looked into Gibbs’ face in the dark. Seeing the determination shining clearly in Gibbs’ eyes, he sighed and tried to pull away, but the older man kept him firmly in his arms.

“When Shannon and I fought,” Gibbs said, his voice soft in the dark, “sometimes, I’d wait hours for her to fall asleep before I came to bed. You know me and apologies,” he snorted self-deprecatingly. “But whenever I finally got my head out of my ass and got in bed with her, she was always awake. And upset. So we’d have to talk about it and I’d have to apologize and make it up to her anyways. I finally learned that I can’t just ignore her and think that things will magically blow over. I’m going to say that the same rules apply here. Something isn’t fine with you, and I need you to tell me, instead of you staying awake half the night worrying about it, holding it in and us fighting about this later.”

Tony turned on his stomach and pushed himself up on his elbows, looking at Gibbs in confusion.

The older man sighed. “I’m not a complete bastard to those I love, Tony,” he ran a hand through Tony’s hair.

“I know that,” Tony muttered. “You’re always nice to Abby.”

“I have to be,” Gibbs smiled at him. “Or she’d figure out that you’re my favorite.”

Even in the darkened room, Gibbs could see Tony’s face flushing again. After a moment he smiled back, that soft, shy, smile that made Gibbs want to pull him close and kiss him silly. “You better not let her hear that. It’d break her heart,” the younger man said.

“I know.” Gibbs’ hand went to Tony’s cheek and he smiled when the younger man leaned into it. “So. What’s going on in your head? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, really,” Tony answered.

“Tony…”

“No, really, Boss. It’s fine. Let’s just go to sleep.” Tony put his head back on Gibbs’ chest and closed his eyes.

“Tony?”

“Shhh. Sleeping.”

“Hey. If you want this to work, you gotta talk to me.”

That did it. “Well what is _this_ anyway? I mean. One minute I’m leaving DC cause I have no hope with you, the next I’m sleeping naked in your bed. What am I supposed to think?” Tony demanded, pushing up onto his elbows, glaring at Gibbs.

Gibbs reached over and clicked the lamp back on, pulling another pillow under his head to prop him up higher. “Right. Let’s start there. What do you want _this_ to be?”

“I-I just… I think… Well… What are my choices?”

“How about I go first? Before you start hyperventilating on me.” Gibbs interrupted. “I’ve been in love with you, maybe since the beginning. Since Baltimore. But well, I had that dumbass rule about sleeping with co-workers, not to mention the fact that I thought you were straight, so I kept my hands to myself. But now that I know the truth – that you’re…bendier than I thought, and you’re in love with me too, I thought maybe we can pursue something. A relationship. More. Whatever you want. Whatever you’re ready for.”

Tony stared at him, eyes wide with shock, maybe even terror.

“What? Why?” he demanded.

“Why not? It’s obviously been eating you up for years. I won’t lie. I’ve hated every woman you slept with, and I didn’t even know about the men or I would’ve hated them, too. You were right. I _have_ hated every single girlfriend you’ve ever had. Because they all meant I couldn’t be with you the way I wanted to be with you. Not just the pizza and beer and sports on TV, or getting drunk in the basement with you sort of way. Not that I didn’t enjoy those times. But I know that I wanted more.”

“Then I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand?”

“This whole year!” Tony scrambled to his knees, wrapping his arms around himself. “Why’d you just push me away like that? And how do I know that you’re not going to do that again?”

“Tony…”

“No, really, Gibbs. I mean. What the hell? You’ve been so cold to me,” he started chewing on a thumbnail. “You have been so distant and cold to me. I’m not trying to be judgmental here. Because if I wanted to be judgmental, I’d be talking about the fact that Probie thinks that the prequels were better than the original Star Wars trilogy. Idiot. And he calls himself a geek? Seriously?”

“Anthony!”

“I don’t understand why you pushed me away after the whole Daniel Budd thing, Gibbs. If you loved me so damned much, then why? I thought you’d be proud of me for taking The Calling down! I thought I’d finally make you proud. And all I got was silence and I don’t know? Even worse crap than usual? What did I do that was so awful that justified this whole goddamned year?”

“Tony…”

“You know what? Never mind. You never liked talking to me anyway. I’m just going to get my clothes and go home now,” Tony started to back away but found himself restrained by the marine.

“Shhhh,” Gibbs put his arms around him and pulled him close. “Calm down. Let me explain.”

Panting, Tony gave him a suspicious look. “You’re not just humoring me, are you?”

“No, Tony. You deserve an explanation. I really was a bastard to you. I know that. The whole time you’ve known me, you’ve pretty much been my punching bag and taken the heat for everything. But I’ve been distant with you, even more so than usual lately. I know that.” He rubbed Tony’s tense shoulders soothingly. “You made me so proud, taking down Daniel Budd and The Calling. You did. I liked the idea of you, like an avenging angel. Out there. Taking care of business.”

“Then why has this whole damned year been so godawful?” Tony wailed.

“You have no idea what you do to me, Tony,” Gibbs sighed. “I could just picture what you did out there. I read the reports, and I heard the things Teague said about you.”

“So?”

“Shit, Tony. It made you that much sexier, OK? I didn’t know how to handle it. So I thought keeping my distance was the best way to go. I didn’t want for you to see me drooling over you when I thought you were trying to make a real go of it with Zoe.”

“ _What_?” Tony squeaked.

“God, Tony. You. Dueling with Daniel Budd. Taking him down. You don’t think that’s sexy? Cause I sure as hell do.”

“You thought…I was… sexy?”

Gibbs nodded slowly. “Badass,” he whispered in Tony’s ear. “Didn’t know it would be such a turn on. Wasn’t sure how to handle being around you so…”

“You avoided me. On purpose.”

Gibbs nodded again.

“I really didn’t piss you off?”

“Why would you have?”

“I mean, you’re usually the one going off and handling situations. I thought maybe… you didn’t like how I handled the whole thing.”

“You thought I’d think I could’ve done it better?”

“Maybe.”

“You did everything right. I couldn’t have done it better. You did good, Tony.”

“Oh,” the younger man blushed again. “Then I thought maybe you were upset I had to leave you on that stupid aircraft carrier. I usually stay for everything. And I wasn’t around as much during your rehab, too.”

“You had your orders. You had work to do. I’m not upset about anything. Other than the fact that I hurt you so badly.”

“Oh.” Tony stared at him.

“Can we go to sleep now, or is there more?”

“What is _this_?” Tony gestured between them. “This. Here. Now. Us. What is this?”

“Whatever you’re ready for, that’s what I want.”

“What the hell does that even mean? Is it just for tonight? A week? When will you get tired of me? And how will I know if you are? What if I did take the Rota job? What would that mean for us?”

“Not just for tonight, or a week. Never get tired of you. If you went to Rota, it’d mean Vance would be happy that I’d finally take my accrued time off and I’d rack up some transatlantic airline miles.”

“What?”

“I’d visit you every chance I get. Long weekends. Random weeks here and there. You have no idea how much unused time off I’ve accumulated.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Don’t think leaving the country means you’re getting rid of me now that I know how you feel about me.”

“Oh,” Tony frowned.

“For the record, Tony, I’m not the kind of guy who does this casually. And for damn sure not with you. I don’t know what you’re ready for, but if it were up to me, I’d make sure you came home to me every night.”

“For how long?” still a slight note of suspicion.

“Forever, if you’ll stand to have me that long,” Gibbs told him seriously. “But you’re your own man, and I want you to be happy. If Rota or New York or San Francisco makes you happy, then I’ll fit my life to yours any which way I can. I’d advise against Chicago. Probably bad for your lungs what with how much snow and cold they get up there.”

Tony kept staring at him blankly, unable to process what Gibbs was saying.

“You said Derek deserved someone who loved him the way he loved you. Do you love me that way? The way Derek loved you?” Gibbs asked him.

“Of course. Why the hell would I have taken all your punishment for all these years?”

“I love you right back. The same way. With all my heart.”

Tony blinked at him.

“We’ve been together fifteen years, Tony. None of our relationships worked out this whole time. Think about it.”

Tony gawked at him.

“Whether we wanted it or not, there was something between us. I felt it. You felt it. I didn’t think I had a chance with you.”

“Oh,” Tony said stupidly. Then his eyes narrowed and he frowned. “This isn’t a ploy for me to stay on your team, is it?”

“Nope. You’ve deserved your own team for years. Told you that. I don’t want you to go because I’m a selfish bastard, but I want what’s best for you. And moving on is it. Gut says so.”

Tony sat on his heels, silently staring at the older man, eyes blinking slowly as he weighed what Gibbs had said. “Did you just say you want me coming home to you forever?” he finally asked.

Gibbs nodded and grunted.

The younger man sat back and stared at him a while longer, green eyes wide. Then without warning, he threw himself on Gibbs, straddling his hips, giving him the deepest, dirtiest kiss he’d ever experienced, rubbing his hard cock against Gibbs’ body. Moaning, Gibbs’ cock began to harden again, unable to resist the sudden onslaught of Tony’s tongue fucking his mouth and the feel of Tony’s hard dick rubbing against his, asking him to come out and play again. When he pulled away to breathe, Tony began kissing his neck, nipping and sucking hard where his neck met his shoulder. Gibbs groaned, one hand in Tony’s hair, pushing him down a little harder, and the younger man bit hard, making him yell.

Suddenly Tony found himself on his back, Gibbs’ eyes staring intensely, boring into his. He stared right back, mesmerized by the pools of blue. Vaguely, he noticed the corners of Gibbs’ eyes crinkle as the man smiled before he leaned down and claimed the full lips that had teased him for years. Before long, Gibbs was fully erect again, thrusting against Tony’s hard cock, and they were panting and moaning into each other’s mouths.

“Need you to fuck me,” Tony panted, opening his legs and throwing them around Gibbs’ waist, arching up into him. “Please.”

Gibbs scrabbled in his night stand drawer, pulling a tube of lube out. “You got a condom?” he asked.

Tony stared at him in horror, and Gibbs could see as the realization that he didn’t have a condom on him hit him. “Shit,” he swore, pushing up on his elbows, legs still around Gibbs. “I don’t think I do. It’s not like I go around fucking every good looking thing on legs like I used to, you know?” he said defensively.

Gibbs grinned at him. “I know,” he said simply. “I know you don’t.” He had the lube in one hand and was continuing to grind himself against Tony.

“Like earlier?” Tony reached in between their bodies and wrapped his long fingers around both their cockheads, squeezing gently, causing them both to shudder and groan.

“I want to be inside you,” Gibbs said huskily. “I’m clean. Haven’t been with anyone since before I was shot.”

Tony stared up at him. “I’m clean, too. I’ve always used protection. But you know…I was never good at being celibate.”

Gibbs laughed. “I’m good without if you are. But I’m ok with this,” he pushed a lubed finger into Tony’s puckered hole.

“Fuck!” Tony swore, arching his back and neck, still up on his elbow.

Gibbs pushed a second finger deep into his body, scissoring his fingers and rained kisses on Tony’s bared neck, feeling the slight rasp of the beginning of a stubble as he sucked on his adam’s apple. When he curled his fingers and began rubbing the hard cluster of muscles deep inside him, the younger man practically screamed, arching up and holding on to Gibbs for dear life. Gibbs kissed him, his fingers continuing to massage Tony’s prostate, before lowering him down and sliding down his body. For the second time that night Tony found his dick engulfed in the warm wet cavern that was Gibbs’ mouth, sucking him down all the way, swallowing and humming, licking, sucking, nipping gently at his balls as he continued to fuck him with his fingers. Tony’s muscles clenched around him, pushing down obscenely on his fingers, one leg over Gibbs’ shoulder, the other knee up, foot off to his side, leaving him completely open to Gibbs.

“Fuck, Gibbs, I need you to fuck me. Fuck the condom. Fuck me now,” he finally demanded.

Gibbs released Tony’s dick with a loud pop, making the younger man groan and try to pull his head back down.

“Sure?”

“Yes! Just fuck me now, Gibbs!” Tony’s eyes flashed angrily.

Gibbs started kissing his way up the younger man’s tanned torso, but strong arms pulled him up and began pulling at his leaking cock.

“Now,” Tony growled into his ear. “Need you now.”

Gibbs smeared lubricant on his dick and rubbed his cockhead against Tony’s entrance. He stared into those vibrant green eyes, a final tacit question, and receiving a demanding glare in answer, he grinned and drove himself deep, bottoming out.

Tony bit off a strangled oath, completely filled, and willed his body to relax and adjust to the intrusion, his muscles clenched tight around Gibbs’ hard cock. The older man waited, feeling the enormous pressure of Tony’s muscles hot and unbelievably, amazingly tight around him, before the younger man breathed out a sigh and relaxed, wiggling underneath him.

“Ready?” he asked.

The younger man nodded, biting his lips as Gibbs pulled out a little and rocked back in.

Gibbs pulled one long leg over his shoulder and hooked the other over one arm, sliding himself in even deeper, groaning deep in his chest. “God, you feel so good,” he moaned, eyes closed.

Tony hummed, wriggling and writhing, trying to fuck himself deeper onto the hard cock inside him. “C’mon,” he urged. “Fuck me.”

Gibbs smiled at him, taking in the big green eyes, now dark with lust, his tanned body flushed with arousal, chest heaving. Then he pulled himself almost all the way out and slammed back in. Tony’s breath expelled in a gasped ‘yes’, and that was it. Gibbs began thrusting, long, hard, thrusts, slamming himself deep into the younger man’s body and Tony met his thrusts, squeezing him hard.

Gibbs switched to short, corkscrewing strokes, deep in Tony’s body, brushing his prostate. Tony’s back arched, pre-cum leaking out of his hard cock as it bobbed and slapped up against his belly, and he moaned urgently, fingers clenching the sheets. The noises Tony made only heightened Gibbs’ arousal and pleasure, amazed at his responsiveness. It was vaguely surprising to Gibbs to find that Tony wasn’t talkative in the throes of passion, reduced to moaning and grunting, with occasional gasped epithets. He leaned down and kissed him hard, swallowing his moans.

He changed the angle again, pounding in hard, drilling his sweet spot and was rewarded with Tony practically coming off the bed, clinging tightly to him, opening his body up even more to Gibbs’ dick. He could feel his orgasm approaching, and held on, trying not to lose control, wanting to watch Tony come first.

“I’m close,” he moaned, thrusting hard. “I’m so fucking close.”

“Me, too,” Tony fisted his own dick and began stroking himself in time to Gibbs’ thrusts, panting hard and moaning urgently. Gibbs kept on going, fucking him hard, barely holding off his own orgasm, watching as Tony’s mouth fell open, eyes screwed shut, tears leaking out, hand furiously jacking himself off, moaning uncontrollably. “Oh fuck. There, right there,” Tony finally moaned, gasping and panting. “Fuck,” he bit out, before his eyes began rolling into the back of his head. “Gonna come, _unnnnnghhhhh_. Gibbs… _Fuck! Jethro!!_ ” and he screamed Gibbs' name as he climaxed, spurting thick and hot over his fingers and spattering Gibbs’ chest and belly as well as his own. His muscles clamped on Gibbs’ dick like a vice, and Gibbs came hard, his ears ringing with Tony’s voice, vision greying as he emptied himself deep inside the body convulsing underneath him, crying out Tony's name.

Long minutes later, their breaths and heart rates calmed, and Gibbs’ softened dick slipped out of Tony’s body, Gibbs pushed himself up on his elbows. He’d collapsed on top of the younger man and laid there, unable to move.

“Fuck, Tony,” he whispered reverently.

The younger man smiled and hummed with satisfaction, eyes still shut.

Gibbs tore himself off the younger man dropping soft kisses on his sweaty golden skin, before crawling off the bed. He cleaned himself up with a wet washcloth, before rinsing it off and bringing it, gently swiping Tony’s body clean with it, the younger man smiling softly, more than half asleep already. When he crawled back into the bed, Tony turned and settled himself half on him, head on his chest, one arm around him, one leg thrown over his thighs.

“Good night, love,” Gibbs said, sighing contently, running his hand up and down the younger man’s back.

Tony hummed softly, eyes closed, breathing deep and even. Gibbs relaxed and yawned. Before sleep claimed him, he heard soft words.

“Didn’t realize you’d still be there, beyond the yellow brick road,” he murmured.

“Always, Tony. I’ll always be here for you.”

Tony kissed his chest. “Gonna take the FBI job,” he mumbled sleepily. “But stay in DC.”

“Good,” Gibbs smiled. “I’m glad.”

“Not moving in with you though,” Tony muttered, settling his head on Gibbs’ chest more comfortably.

“OK.”

“Yet.”

“OK.”

And Tony was down for the count, sleeping deeply. Gibbs smiled, yawning hugely. “Love you, Tony,” he whispered as sleep claimed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end! Thank you so much for all of your kudos and comments. :D
> 
> The music I listened to for this story includes:  
> * [Goodbye Yellow Brick Road](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ozd2ja7mAgM) (Sara Bareilles)  
> * [Have You Seen Me Lately](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SE1G38RdUNY) (Counting Crows)  
> * [Goodbye Yellow Brick Road](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RZ3Bb4UsXhU) (Elton John)  
> * [Bennie and the Jets](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1EtCrHBq7Ds) (Elton John)  
> * [Baby Grand](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XUNOmN3YVL0) (Billy Joel / Ray Charles)
> 
> Again, happy birthday to thepeachymonkey! I hope you enjoyed this story and its smutty ending! Hopefully this became an extension to your birthday festivities. Thepeachymonkey writes cool Gibbs/DiNozzo stories. Go check her out!
> 
> -j  
> xoxo

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Happy Derek, after the Yellow Brick Rd](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7610155) by [Musichick2004](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musichick2004/pseuds/Musichick2004)




End file.
